


A Gentle Christmas

by everythingremainsconnected



Category: Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Angst, Awkward found family Christmas, F/M, First Christmas, First Kisses, Fluff, M/M, Smut, Snowed In, Ugly Christmas Sweaters for Everyone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-26
Updated: 2017-01-26
Packaged: 2018-09-20 00:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9466487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everythingremainsconnected/pseuds/everythingremainsconnected
Summary: Having her first Christmas without the makeshift family of the Springs, Farah sure as hell didn’t want to spend it alone – but inviting so many people over and promising to feed all of them may not have been her best idea. Add two siblings who aren't talking to each other and a rare Seattle snow storm and it might just be enough to ruin Christmas entirely.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (For the purposes of this fic, the CIA thing at the end of season 1 never happened)
> 
> Important December 2017 update: Tumblr user [intricatecakes](http://untiltheendoftheline.co.vu/) has made [THE MOST AMAZING ART](http://untiltheendoftheline.co.vu/post/168741918752/merry-christmas-from-the-rowdy-3-inspired-by-this) but don't go looking til you've read chapter 4 <3

For once the snow looked like it did in the movies, all white and fluffy and romantic. Farah watched it coming down outside her kitchen windows and hoped the roads weren’t too dangerous; Seattle didn’t often get heavy snow. She checked down the recipe list, fighting last-minute nerves. Having her first Christmas without the makeshift family of the Springs, Farah sure as hell didn’t want to spend it alone – but inviting so many people over and promising to feed all of them may not have been her best idea.

The doorbell rang. 

Checking that nothing was going to burn in the next few minutes Farah went to the door still in her Christmas apron. Todd and Dirk stood on her porch, comically rugged up against the cold and carrying bags upon bags of gifts. 

“Hey you guys,” Farah greeted warmly, ushering them inside, “thanks so much for coming.” 

“Of course, Farah!” Dirk said immediately. “We got presents! We’ve been shopping _all day_.” He shed his earmuffs, coat and scarf before striding through the house toward the kitchen. 

“Kill me,” Todd said drily. “All day, Farah. _All day_ on Christmas Eve. Please tell me you have something to drink.” 

Farah smiled. “Many, many somethings. You two are just like an old married couple sometimes.” 

“What? No.” Todd replied with trademark awkward seeping through his every pore. 

“Right. So what’s your poison? Beer, champagne, whiskey?” Farah led Todd to the kitchen and opened the fridge. Dirk was already heaping the bags of goodies onto the dining table and looking around interestedly. Farah’s house was comfortable and very suburban, carefully furnished with modernist pieces of furniture and décor. 

“Whiskey?” Todd queried. “I didn’t have you pegged for a whiskey fan.” 

Farah paused. “It’s not for me, per se.” 

“Oh Farah you didn’t.” Dirk looked like he was going to be violently ill. 

Todd looked from one to the other. 

“I couldn’t _not_ invite them!” She said defensively. “Christmas is all about family and it’s time you two,” Farah turned to Todd, “sorted your shit out. I’m sick of being in the middle.” She passed him a beer from the fridge as Todd finally realised what she was saying. 

“No. Oh no. You didn’t.” 

“We have definitely established that oh yes, I did,” Farah checked on the oven settings and deliberately didn’t look at either stunned man, “so let’s accept it and just move on.” She poured glasses of champagne for herself and Dirk. 

Todd looked wearily at the piles of terribly wrapped presents. “At least now the quantities make sense.” He felt as sick as Dirk looked. He hadn’t seen Amanda since she cut him from her life months ago; he’d tried calling and asking for messages to get to her through Farah but none of it did any good. Of course he’d tried to start accepting her absence and anger toward him just in time for Farah to intervene. 

A loud rumbling sound drew closer to the house. “You invited the _Rowdy Three_? To your _house_?” Dirk squeaked. 

“Yes.” Farah sounded braver than she felt. “They’re Amanda’s family now, and if you’ll recall, I did just mention that Christmas is all about _family_.” 

“Good to know what’ll be on the menu then – me!” Dirk finally lost his composure and started flapping about the kitchen looking for somewhere to hide. 

“They’ve already promised not to eat you!” Farah shouted. She took a moment to appreciate the oddness of that sentence before continuing, “and Amanda says they never break their promises. Besides, they can also eat regular food just like you and me. Apparently.” 

The Rowdy van engine cut out and the doorbell rang. “Are you sure about this?” Todd asked. 

“Of course,” Farah lied, “can you maybe get him to take a breath, or something?” She looked at Dirk, pacing in front of the table, hyperventilating just a little bit. “Or put the presents under the tree in the living room?” 

Todd nodded and marshalled Dirk and the gifts through a door into the adjacent living room. 

Opening the front door, Farah grinned. Amanda threw herself into Farah’s arms with a happy cry and Farah hugged her tightly. Of course Amanda was flanked by the Rowdy Three who didn’t appear to notice the bitterly cold weather at all and didn’t have a heavy coat between them. Amanda was snug in a massive scarf and her leather jacket, and at Farah’s invitation left them on the hallway coatrack. 

“Who else is here?” Amanda asked, seeing the other coats already hanging. The Rowdy Three stomped the snow off their boots before following the two women through the house in unusually quiet order. 

“Well.” Farah got out two bottles of whiskey and set them on the table, arranging shot glasses beside them. She glanced at Martin. “Christmas is all about family-” 

“You didn’t,” Amanda narrowed her eyes suspiciously. 

“Oh she most certainly did!” Dirk retorted from the next room. He sounded more than a bit stressed. 

“We’re leaving,” Amanda said to the Rowdies and moved to exit the kitchen. 

Martin gently caught her by the arm, and only succeeded because Amanda let him. She looked up at him, surprise spreading across her face. 

“You had a part to play in this?” She asked, obviously hurt. 

“You miss him,” Martin said quietly, “and she’s right. Christmas is for family.” 

“ _You’re_ my family,” Amanda said firmly, gesturing from him to the other Rowdies. “That piece of shit can rot in the gutter like he deserves.” 

“Now you listen to me,” Farah said quietly. She opened the whiskey and poured a line of shots as she spoke. “It’s Christmas Eve. I have no family, and this assortment of freaks is the closest thing I have to friends. You want to blame someone,” she swallowed a fiery shot in one smooth gulp, “blame me not wanting to be alone for the holidays.” She forced a smile and picked up another shot. “Cheers!” 

Amanda downed three shots in rapid succession and moved to stand alone by the large windows, staring out into the night. Her capacity for alcohol was impressive for such a slightly built person, but Farah still watched her closely. Martin helped himself to a beer. 

“Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?” Farah asked quietly. The Christmas carols that had been pleasant background noise earlier were starting to sound a bit naff. 

“Be more concerned about anything breakable when she sees _him_.” Martin said, just as quiet. 

“You said she misses him!” 

Martin nodded. “That don’t mean she’s not still mad. And I did _not_ agree to this.” 

Taking a deep breath, Farah addressed the room at large. “Shall we move into the living room?” She picked up the whiskey and more champagne and left. Martin nodded to Vogle, Cross and Gripps for them to follow their host, leaving him and Amanda alone. He moved toward her and opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. 

“I don’t want to hear it. I never thought you’d lie to me. You know how much your honesty means to me.” She looked so hurt and angry and left without giving Martin a chance to explain. 

Dirk and Todd stood in front of the tall glittering Christmas tree at almost equal states of stressed attention. Both wore truly revolting holiday sweaters with so much visual stimulation that it was hard to look at them for long. Dirk’s had flashing lights. 

“We got one for everyone!” Dirk said weakly, holding a bag tightly in his hand. 

“No way,” Cross laughed. He sat on one of the couches with Vogle and Gripps and they helped themselves to the whiskey. Cross gave Amanda a full shot glass when she arrived. 

“Did you know about this?” She demanded quietly. The three men shook their heads and met her eyes without hesitation. “Good.” She downed the shot and sat between Vogle and Cross, refusing to look at anyone else. 

Farah sat on the opposite couch with her champagne and attempted to fill the room with chatter. Vogle and Gripps were happy enough to play along while Amanda and Cross dedicated themselves to the whiskey. Dirk and Todd perched on a settee by the tree, Dirk more than a little dejected that only Farah had accepted a sweater and sat with it in her lap instead of wearing it immediately. Martin sat beside her, watching Amanda as she steadfastly ignored him. 

Amanda didn’t last long before interrupting the flow of conversation. “Where’s your bathroom?” 

Farah gave directions and Amanda left. Dirk nudged Todd on the settee. “Now’s your chance. Go on.” He practically shoved Todd off the seat, and with a resigned sigh he did as he was told. He trusted Dirk quite possibly more than he should, putting a lot of faith in the holistic approach. He waited outside the washroom for his sister and accidentally surprised her when she emerged. 

“What the hell, dipshit,” she muttered, moving to push by him. 

“Amanda, wait,” he tried, “can we just talk?” 

“Talk about what?” She retorted. “Years of lying to everyone about everything all the time? Being a _completely_ different person than I thought you were?” She rolled her eyes. “No freaking way.” 

“Please,” Todd begged, “I miss you. So much.” 

A little piece of Amanda’s heart splintered. “I miss the brother I thought I had.” She went back to the kitchen alone and sat at the table, staring out at the snow. 

It wasn’t long before Farah returned to the kitchen to check on the food. She gave Amanda a long look as she monitored the progress of multiple dishes and Martin came in to for another drink. “Would you two mind setting the table?” Farah asked brightly. “Everything’s in the cupboard just there and cutlery’s over there.” She glided out of the kitchen. 

Angry as she was, Amanda wasn’t needlessly rude. She did as Farah asked but refused to meet Martin’s eyes. He passed her plates and bowls, waiting for her to look at him but the moment never came. She knew she was being petulant and didn’t particularly care. 

Amanda was too short to reach the glasses at the top of the cupboard, but damned if she was going to ask for help. She started to climb the bench before Martin came up close behind her and reached above her head. 

“I got it,” she said defensively. 

“I’m just tryin’ to help,” Martin replied quietly. He moved just enough to Amanda to turn around and glare at him. 

“That doesn’t mean you get to do whatever the hell you want. It’s not up to you!” 

“I didn’t know Farah planned it like this!” 

“Bullshit. You can read people better than anyone.” 

“And I can read you, drummer girl,” Martin reminded her, looking over the top of his glasses, “I know that you’re miserable.” 

Amanda felt a sting when he used his nickname for her and hissed, “did you ever think that maybe the problem is _you_?” Anger and possibly too much whiskey on an empty stomach spurred her on. She pushed him away and stalked out. Her head was so full of buzzing hurt and rage that she didn’t have much room left for anything else. 

The actual dinner went surprisingly well, even though Amanda was only talking to approximately fifty per cent of the attendees. 

  
* 

The snow had left ‘pleasingly cinematic’ behind some time ago and was well and truly in ‘catastrophic’ mode. Farah put down her phone and tried another falsely bright smile. “Look’s like it’s going to be one hell of a white Christmas. We’re snowed in for at least twenty-four hours.” 

“In that case,” Amanda went to the stereo, “I’m changing the music. We’ve had enough carols for a fuckin’ lifetime.” Heavier music pulsed out of the speakers, not as full of frenetic drums as Amanda might have liked but was aware that it certainly wouldn’t be to everyone’s taste. She and Vogle started dancing. 

“Todd, you and Dirk can share the spare room upstairs, and you guys can have the basement.” Farah nodded at the Rowdies. “I’ll go get things ready.” Dirk followed her, ostensibly helping but mostly wanting to escape the energy-sucking vampires. 

“Sharing a _bed_ , Farah? Really?” He asked quietly once they were upstairs. 

“Well, Todd’s short enough to sleep on the couch but it’s not as comfortable as a real bed.” Farah replied. She got out pillows and blankets for the spare bedroom. “Or you can bunk with the Rowdy Three? No? Bathroom’s down the hall.” 

Dirk stared at the bed and gulped. He couldn’t decide what he was more afraid of in that moment. 

  
* 

It was barely eleven p.m. when Amanda collapsed onto a couch, tucked her knees up to her chest, and fell asleep. 

“Should we get her to bed?” Farah asked the Rowdies who showed very little sign of slowing down. 

Martin went to her, ready to gather her up and put her somewhere more comfortable as he had done many times, but this time her sleeping face scrunched up and she rolled away from him. That had never happened before. Martin stopped dead. 

“She don’t wanna be near you right now,” Cross said quietly. He shook his head and approached Amanda, gently picking her up and heading to the basement where a real bed waited. Cross placed her on the bed and removed her shoes before pulling a blanket up over her. 

“Thanks Cross,” Amanda murmured, reaching out to pat his face, “tell that buttmunch to stay away.” 

“Which one?” He asked with a smile. 

“All of ‘em.” She rolled over and started to snore. 

An hour later Cross passed out on the sofa bed beside Amanda while Martin, Vogle and Gripps shared another mattress on the floor. The unspoken rule in the Rowdy Three was the first one to pass out got the best bed, which usually meant Amanda got to be comfortable. While she didn’t always sleep in his immediate vicinity the forced distance between them set Martin’s teeth on edge. 

  
* 

Hints of streetlights around the edge of the curtains did just enough to alleviate the darkness. Dirk lay next to Todd in the queen bed in Farah’s guest bedroom, and was wide awake and quite aware of Todd beside him. 

“Todd?” He whispered. 

“Yes, Dirk?” 

“Are you asleep?” 

Todd sighed. “If only I could carry on this kind of conversation while sleeping, then I might actually _get_ some sleep.” 

“Ah. Right. Sorry.” 

Todd sighed again. 

“Do you think Amanda will talk to you tomorrow?” 

“It’s going to make for one hell of a Christmas lunch if she doesn’t.” 

“What makes you say lunch?” Dirk rolled toward Todd to try and see him better in the gloom. 

“You saw how much she drank. If she wakes up before noon check for Jesus in the garage.” 

“You’re expecting the messiah? I didn’t realise He made house calls on such an important day.” 

Todd sighed again. “I mean, if she’s up before noon, it’ll be a miracle. Get it?” 

“Oh yes, of course,” Dirk smiled. He became serious again. “I know you still hate yourself for what happened.” 

“Wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” Dirk began, “but it’s possible for other people to care for you very much even when you’re drowning in self-pity.” 

“They shouldn’t.” 

“They tried.” 

Todd paused. “Oh.” He rolled over to face Dirk. 

“It meant a lot to me that you wore the sweater I picked out for you. I know how much you hate it.” 

“I don’t, uh,” Todd faltered. 

“I’ve never had a real Christmas before. I think I like it.” Dirk took a deep breath. “I think I’ll like it even more when you’re ready to be honest with yourself.” He leaned forward and kissed Todd, very gently, on the cheek, relishing the barest scrape of Todd’s perpetual whiskers against his lips. “Goodnight, Todd.” 

Todd lay perfectly still as Dirk rolled over to face away from him. He swore he could feel the ghost of those warm lips on his cheek until he fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

The only available view out of any given window was white. Thick glittering snow covered everything for several inches at best and over a foot at worst. Amanda sat in Farah’s bay window seat, wrapped in a plush dressing gown and holding a giant cup of coffee. Her head pounded with a potent mix of hangover and regret. Coffee didn’t ease either of those things but she pretended it helped.

Martin was awake. Of course he was. He was always awake when Amanda went to sleep, and was up before any of them. It was usually comforting but on this particular morning Amanda just wanted to be alone. He had to sense that – he could sense _almost_ every other thing about her – but he came into the living room anyway. Clad only in open collared shirt and torn jeans he slowly approached. Seeing him barefoot, without his customary vest, felt peculiarly intimate. Amanda glanced at him before returning her gaze to the window. 

Without waiting for an invitation Martin sat at the opposite end of the long bay seat, tucking one foot underneath him and cradling a steaming mug in ring-free hands. 

Amanda rested her head against the cold glass. She sighed. 

“You like it here.” Martin stated. 

“I like hot coffee in the morning,” she corrected. She still couldn’t look at him. The ugly words she’d said last night seemed burned into her brain and she didn’t know what to do with them. Dying from embarrassment wasn’t really an option and drinking herself to numbness certainly hadn’t worked. Actually trying to deal with things oddly didn’t occur to her as a viable possibility. 

“If I brought you coffee every day, would you want to stay with me?” Martin asked. 

“What are you talking about?” 

“You said that the problem is me. So how do I fix it?” He was so direct, and Amanda usually loved that about him but right now she just felt small and stupid. 

“I didn’t,” Amanda closed her eyes, fighting a very physical hangover to think clearly, “I didn’t quite mean it like that. I don’t think.” 

Martin looked at her over his glasses. “Then what did you mean?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“How can you sit there and avoid the truth? You say you value honesty so much, but maybe that’s just somethin’ that applies to everybody else and not you.” 

Amanda scoffed. “You want honesty? Fine. It is absolutely _not_ up to you to decide when it’s time for me to forgive my brother! If that moment ever happens it will be on _my_ terms. It’s none of your business! And _lying_ to me about why we’re here? How could you do that?” Her eyes filled with tears. “I almost,” she swallowed hard, “I can’t believe I almost loved you. And you lied to me. So fix _that_.” 

“I never lied!” Martin put his coffee on the window ledge angrily. “All Farah asked was if you were ok and I knew you missed him. That’s all I said! I swear it on my freedom.” He leaned forward and tried desperately to meet her eyes, half-reaching for her. 

Amanda couldn’t respond. Her ears roared and her stomach rolled. She put her coffee down and left the living room in a hurry, barely making it to the bathroom in time to bring up her entire stomach. When she emerged, empty and shaking, someone had left a bottle of painkillers and a glass of frosty water by the door with a dry slice of toast; her preferred hangover remedy in one sad little pile. Martin brought it to her every time she needed it, somehow finding cold water and bread no matter where they were. 

After eating the toast and painkillers, Amanda went back down to the basement and curled up in a miserable ball on the bed where Cross still slept. Somehow it wasn’t fair of Martin to care for her when she’d been so foul. It would be easier to push him away than deal with the mess, but Amanda couldn’t quite force herself to think that all the way through to the end. The thought of losing Martin and the Rowdy Three altogether was enough to make her want to vomit again. 

  
*

“What did you _do_?” Gripps asked Martin. The four of them were gathered around the kitchen table in a huddle later in the day. He clutched his head between both hands. “It’s a hurricane and a half in here!” The Rowdy Three shared a psychic connection and it included Amanda in a strange peripheral sort of way. 

“This ain’t no standard hangover,” Cross agreed, glaring at Martin. “Remember the time in Nashville she got so drunk she fought a mannequin and lost? This is about a hundred times worse.” 

Vogle shook his head. “A thousand times worse. You gotta fix this before we all go crazy.” He paused. “Crazier. Especially her!” 

Martin snarled. “I’m tryin’. _You_ oughta try convincin’ her of the truth, see how far you get!” 

“We don’t need to. We didn’t lie to her.” Vogle pointed out smugly. 

Martin growled. 

“Is everything alright?” Todd asked from the doorway. The Rowdies all turned to stare at him in silence. “I’ll just wait out here.” 

Leaving the Rowdies to their planning Todd sought out Farah. He found her in the living room, sitting on the couch with a book. 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do,” he said quietly, “but it’s not working.” 

Farah sighed and set her book down. “It isn’t just about you, Todd.” 

“Oh I know,” he agreed, “but this is worse than we know. She’s connected to _them_ , somehow,” Todd couldn’t even begin to fathom it, “and her being so pissed at everyone is affecting _all_ of them. If they get too unpredictable, it won’t be safe for any of us. Can you please talk to her?” 

“On one condition.” 

“Anything.” 

Farah threw a lump of mistletoe at him. “Don’t make me sing ‘Kiss the girl’ but where I change the words to ‘kiss the boy’. I’ll do it.” She warned. 

  
*

Farah was there when Amanda woke up with a groan. “What time is it?” 

“You missed lunch. How are you feeling?” 

Amanda groaned again. “Sick. Stupid. Embarrassed. Mortified. I could go on.” She pulled the blankets over her head as each horrible thing she’d said in the last twenty-four hours replayed itself in her ears. 

“Please don’t.” Farah quipped before becoming serious. “It’s all my fault. Martin didn’t know about any of this. I just asked how you were doing and planned this all on my own.” 

Amanda slowly pulled the blankets down. “Are you sure?” 

Farah nodded and sighed. “I was so sick of being stuck in the middle of your fight with Todd and still trying to be friends with both of you, and then I got angry that you two had each other and you were both too stubborn to be able to forgive. I haven’t got anybody, and I’d give a lot for a sibling to love, so I interfered when I shouldn’t have and made a _lot_ of things worse. I’m so sorry.” 

Slowly Amanda sat up. “Just because I miss the brother I thought I had, doesn’t mean I’m ready to forgive him. Not even close.” 

“I know. Now.” Farah admitted. “If we survive being snowed in together, I promise I won’t meddle again.” 

Amanda groaned. “Don’t remind me. And Farah?” Amanda gave her a quick hug. “I’m still mad at you right now, but you’re not alone, alright? You’ve got my brother and Dirk, and you’ve got me too. Quick question though. How do I fix this?” She wailed. 

“Fix what?” 

“Everything, ha,” Amanda covered her face with the blankets again. 

“What did you do, exactly?” 

“Well, I got so mad about being manipulated into this,” Amanda emerged from the security blanket and glared at her, “that I didn’t listen to Martin when he tried to tell me it wasn’t his fault because of course I panicked that the person I trusted the most had betrayed me, again, aka reliving the Todd situation,” Amanda sighed, “and then I got _so drunk_ – please do not tell me what I did, I think I can remember just enough to wish I was dead – and then this morning Martin tried to apologise, I think,” she frowned, “I’m not really sure about that part actually, it was kinda weird to see him in a domestic setting without boots on… anyway he offered to make me a lot of coffee and then called me a hypocrite, then I accidentally told him I loved him and then I had to leave to puke.” 

Farah reeled. “Wow. Ok. It’s been an eventful twelve hours. Wait.” Farah stared at Amanda. “You _love_ Martin? I mean, I’ve seen the way you look at each other, but wow. Love.” 

“I’m definitely ready for death now.” Amanda buried herself in the blankets. 

“I’m no expert,” Farah began, “but apologising might be a good place to start.” 

“But I’m still mad at you even though you apologised,” Amanda pointed out from under the covers. 

Farah smiled. “But you’re still talking to me.” 

“Damnit.” 

“Go on. You might want to clean your teeth first. Here, I got you this.” Farah handed her a small little parcel beautifully wrapped in red paper. 

“Seriously?” 

“I couldn’t not,” Farah smiled. “Open it!” 

Amanda did as she was told and found a beautiful collection of body wash and moisturizer. “Are you trying to give me a hint?” 

“I wasn’t sure how often you’d get a long luxurious shower or bath when you guys are on the road, but everyone likes to smell nice, right?” Farah tried. “Dirk helped me pick it out. He’s good at gifts for someone who is kind of terrible at people.” 

Amanda rolled from the sofa bed and lurched into the shower, clutching the little bottles of sweet-smelling goodies. 

  
*

Having showered and changed into a light blue dress and yes, cleaned her teeth, Amanda felt about eighty per cent human again, a state certainly not helped by her nerves. How did one recover from treating a friend so badly and accidentally confessing one’s unrequited love to said friend who clearly didn’t feel the same way? _Dutch courage_. Amanda went to the empty kitchen and took a mouthful of whiskey straight from the bottle. There wasn’t much left after last night’s efforts and her stomach twinged in protest. She leaned against the kitchen island with her back to the door, exercising iron control over her digestive system, and took another gulp once she was certain it would stay down. 

“I thought I might find you here,” Martin said by way of greeting. Amanda turned to watch him approach slowly, cautiously, as if she might run away or turn into a monster. She didn’t blame him. 

“You can always find us,” she said lightly, “like that time I wandered off in the cornfields in Iowa? That sucked.” 

“You kept shouting you were under the moon, and we just weren’t looking hard enough.” 

“Ok, to be fair, I was exactly under the moon,” she said, her mouth quirking upward into a smile, “and it’s not my fault that the moonshine was about a thousand proof. It’s a miracle I’m not dead.” 

Martin stared at her for an uncomfortably long moment. “You feel different.” 

“Different how?” 

“Less like a storm.” 

Amanda winced. “I’m sorry about that.” She met his eyes and had another gulp of whiskey. She crept around the kitchen island as she spoke. “I’m sorry about everything else too. I was so scared that you were going to betray me just like Todd did and I just,” she looked away, “I couldn’t face it again. Not from you.” 

“Because of how you almost feel about me?” Martin moved closer. 

“If we could just pretend like that bit never happened, that would be great,” Amanda tried to laugh and drank a little more whiskey. 

“I’m sorry-” 

“No, it’s ok!” Amanda cut him off with false cheer. Her throat burned and she wanted to cry for the next twelve hours, minimum. “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Can you just-” Martin stopped midsentence and took the whiskey bottle from Amanda’s hands. He gulped down what was left. “Can you just wait? I’m trying to fix it.” 

“You don’t feel the same way about me, I get it,” Amanda tried to bury her hurt deep enough to get through the conversation. “You can’t fix that.” 

Martin moved into Amanda’s personal space. She could feel the heat radiating off his body. “Nothin’s broken here, drummer girl,” he said softly, “except maybe me if you leave.” He lifted his hand to cup her cheek gently. 

For a second, Amanda just stared, refusing to believe that Martin was so close and his vivid blue eyes refused to look away. Carefully she put her hands on the front his chest to brace herself. With one hesitant glance at his mouth Amanda kissed him lightly. He tasted of whiskey. 

Martin dropped the bottle on the floor with a crash to wrap Amanda in his arms. She clung to him tightly as he pressed his body into hers but then she squeaked in alarm. Immediately Martin pulled away, afraid he’d somehow hurt her. That was always how the moment ended in his dreams. “What’s wrong?” 

“I don’t have any shoes on,” she said, smiling, “and you just smashed a glass bottle on the floor.” 

The words finally registered in his brain and Martin looked at the shards across the floor and Amanda’s bare feet. 

At that exact moment Farah and Todd came rushing into the kitchen. 

“What the hell?” Todd shouted. “Amanda are you ok?” 

“I’m fine, asshole.” _More than fine. Holy shit_. “Help me out of here?” She asked Martin, her arms still around his neck. He nodded and lifted her easily, carrying her out of the kitchen. Glass crunched under his boots. 

“I’ll clean that,” Martin said as he passed Farah. He ignored Todd as he methodically cleaned up the broken bottle. Amanda had left the doorway leading to the hall and Martin didn’t linger once the glass was safely in the bin. 

“What the hell,” Todd repeated, looking at Farah. “Did you know about this?” 

“Todd, anyone with eyes knew about this. It’s like, the second worst kept secret in town.” 

“What’s the first worst kept secret?” 

Farah looked Todd in the eyes and oozed scepticism. “Really? You’re really going to ask me that?” 

In the few minutes it had taken to clear up broken glass, Amanda had had time to overanalyse the whole encounter. Martin found her nervously chewing her thumbnail in the hallway outside the kitchen. 

“I’m sorry,” Martin began, “about the bottle. Are you hurt?” He approached her carefully again, wanting to hold her so badly but not wanting to frighten her. 

Amanda shook her head. “You don’t want me to leave?” 

“Never.” 

“Even though I say shitty things when I’m scared? What if I get scared some more and just turn into some sort of nightmare and ruin everything? What then?” 

Martin appeared to give it some thought. “I think we’re pretty good at pushing each other’s buttons.” 

At that, Amanda nodded. “Making fun of you is one of my favourite hobbies,” she admitted. “Seriously though, what if I screw this up?” 

“You puked on my favourite jeans in that cornfield in Iowa. That’s when I knew I loved you.” 

Amanda stared. “You’re kidding. Would it kill you to make a move?” 

“I didn’t want to scare you. I,” he looked down, “I feel this world differently. Intensely. I didn’t want to scare you away.” 

“You jackass! You can read people – you can read _me_. The hell made you think I wasn’t into you?” 

Martin looked at her again. “What I said yesterday is still true. You’re miserable.” 

“Try again,” Amanda got into his personal space and poked his shoulder. “I was miserable because of a one-way attraction. It’s enough to make anyone depressed. Ask Dirk if you don’t believe me.” 

“I don’t think that’s as one-sided as you think,” Martin smiled, “but we’ll fix that later. I’m not done fixing _this_.” He gently put a hand on Amanda’s waist, adoring the rustle of the dress fabric against her skin. “Will you let me try?” 

Amanda smiled and put her arms around his neck. “I’ll certainly let you bring me coffee every day. No take-backsies.” She kissed him with a tentativeness that lasted all of five seconds until neither one could control the long-stifled attraction. 

Amanda pulled Martin toward the wall so she could lean against it, pulling his body into hers. There were altogether too many clothes involved and she felt her dress hiking up as Martin’s hands ran along her thighs and squeezed her ass. Amanda ached to grind against him. Martin easily lifted her up and she wrapped her thighs around his hips. She gasped into the kiss, but the noise made Martin stop and pull away. He gently lowered her to the ground. 

“If you’re going to stop touching me every time I make noise, we’re really not going to get anywhere.” Amanda warned him, breathing a little heavily. 

“We’re in the hallway of our friend’s house,” Martin reminded her. “This is not how I wanted us to,” he trailed off. 

“It’s not very practical,” she agreed, “so take me somewhere.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She kissed him again, igniting fire along both their bodies where they touched. “Take me somewhere or I’ll take you right here.” 

Martin looked at her with wonder and longing. She wasn’t kidding. He grabbed her hand and they went to the basement, locking the door behind them.


	3. Chapter 3

As soon as the door was closed Amanda was there, kissing Martin ferociously. She ripped open his vest and shirt and shrugged them off his broad shoulders. He kicked off his shoes and tossed away his glasses as Amanda pulled him toward the bed and on top of her. Again his hands on her thighs made her dress ride up and Martin loved the feel of the fabric against her skin. He unbuttoned the front of her dress as he kissed down her neck, those kisses moving to the rise of her breasts above her bra. She gasped when Martin unhooked her bra with one hand and she eagerly removed it entirely.

“You stop now and I’ll kill you,” she promised, her voice a low purr. 

Martin looked at her and grinned. “I haven’t even started.” He cupped her breast in one hand as he leaned into her, kissing her neck while pressing the length of his body against her. Amanda arched into him as she moaned. Heat poured over her body at his touch; she quickly undid his belt buckle and jeans and eased her hand inside with a smile. Now it was Martin’s turn to groan, his mouth kissing down her neck and breast and Amanda couldn’t help but gasp. Her hand stayed most firmly in Martin’s jeans as he brought his mouth back to hers. 

Cautiously Martin pulled away just a little and lifted the hem of her dress to reach the frilly edge of her underwear. He waited. 

“Take them off,” Amanda begged. 

“We should use protection,” he suggested. 

“My last check came back clear and pregnancy isn’t an option.” Amanda declared. “Have _you_ had a check recently?” 

Martin nodded. “All clear.” 

“Great! Now take. Them. Off.” Amanda ordered. She couldn’t decide which was worse, the patience that he took in removing her underwear, or how badly it made her want him. “Now yours,” she instructed. Martin obeyed, shedding his jeans and belts easily, leaving him entirely naked and her in an unbuttoned dress. Amanda was not surprised that he went commando. 

Martin leaned over her, watching her, half-expecting to wake up from the most amazing dream of his life. Amanda guided him into her and moaned, making Martin's breath hitch. She shuddered in pleasure and wrapped her legs around him as Martin slowly set the pace, every thrust sending spikes of pleasure through Amanda’s body. She gripped his waist tightly with both hands, losing control of coherent thought as her body craved _more_. 

"Oh my god," Amanda whispered, digging her nails into Martin's back, "faster, please, _please_." Amanda edged closer and closer to the end, her moans of pleasure rising as Martin moved faster. Her every murmur sent throbbing desire through his body and his eyes rolled back in his head with almost-satisfied longing. With a throaty gasp Amanda arched up into his body and buried her face in his shoulder, muffling her scream. Martin took his cue and let go of any pretence of control, groaning and shuddering against her as the final rush of pleasure overtook them both. 

As the waves of euphoria faded Martin slumped on top of Amanda, resting his forehead against hers, hardly enough strength left in his arms to hold himself up. 

“Holy shit,” Amanda panted, “ _holy shit_.” 

Martin couldn’t speak and smiled wickedly instead. 

With a gentleness Amanda was coming to treasure, Martin eased himself off her and lay on his back beside her, panting. Amanda immediately rolled into his side, putting her arm across his stomach and pressing her breasts against him, igniting arousal in him all over again. She deliberately wriggled the corner of her dress free and handed it to him. 

“I don’t want to ruin your dress,” Martin said eventually, knowing full well that unprotected sex had more than a few aftereffects. 

“Who cares,” Amanda sighed, “can we stay here all day and then you can ruin me, too?” 

Martin growled happily. “We should probably put in an appearance for dinner.” 

“Fine, but this dress isn’t going to make it.” 

“I think I know what you could wear in the meantime,” he suggested at last, his voice a low rumble. 

“Naked at the dining table is not an option.” 

Martin laughed. “That’s not quite what I meant.” 

  
*

When they returned upstairs, Amanda wore the predictably hideous Christmas sweater that Dirk had picked for her, with yesterday’s jeans. She’d showered again, understanding that as much as she loved Martin’s smell all over her no one else would quite appreciate it. Instead Amanda moved in a cloud of perfumed scent that practically turned the air pink. Martin loved it. They sat around the kitchen table with the other Rowdies, beers in hand, and she’d moved her chair close enough to his that she could rest a hand on his knee as they talked. She felt better than she had in weeks and everyone was lighter as a result. Martin casually put his arm around her, still not quite believing all that had happened in the last hour or two. 

Upon entering the kitchen and seeing Amanda in the sweater, Dirk beamed. “I _knew_ you’d love it!” 

“I sure do,” Amanda smiled, “and so do the boys, don’t you?” She gestured grandly at Martin, Gripps, Cross and Vogle, each wearing personally selected Christmas sweaters. Every sweater was an exercise in hideous garishness and contrasted beautifully with the grungy torn jeans aesthetic of the Rowdy Three. Vogle had even found a Santa hat to wear. They all smiled unconvincingly at Dirk, trying not to look hungry. 

“But Amanda,” Dirk turned back to her, “what happened to your dress?” 

Martin choked on his beer a little. 

“Dirk, can I talk to you?” Amanda tried not to smile too much as she left the kitchen, pushing Dirk out in front of her. 

“Of course you can but I’m not entirely sure why forcibly removing me from the kitchen was necessary?” He asked, a little injured. 

“What was that about a dress?” 

“I don’t know,” he shrugged, “it’s just a hunch, really.” 

Amanda ignored it and continued. “My brother is not the sharpest crayon in the box.” 

Dirk stared at her for a moment. “Mm nope, not following.” 

Amanda sighed. “If you’re into him, you gotta make it obvious.” 

“I thought I had,” Dirk explained. “Perhaps he’s just not that ‘into’ me?” 

“This is not some shitty romcom. He’s into you. He’s also into wallowing in his own misery.” 

“I had noticed. The latter, obviously.” 

“Obviously. Listen, we have a plan.” 

“Meddling has hitherto not worked out tremendously well in the last day or so, has it? Really?” Dirk raised his eyebrows. 

“I have never been so happy.” Amanda grinned. “We’re going to meddle and it’s going to _work_. Trust me.” 

“But you don’t even like Todd right now.” 

“True,” Amanda agreed, “but if you feel _half_ the way about my brother that I do about Martin, I can’t let you live like that.” 

Dirk baulked. “ _Martin_? You and _Martin_? But he’s the leader of the Rowdy Three!” 

“Still not sure how literally anybody could miss that,” Farah said, entering the living room. “Maybe you and Todd have been communicating in entirely different languages for the last six months.” 

“Well, I _am_ British,” Dirk explained with a self-effacing smile. 

“Yeah I don’t think that’s it.” Farah disagreed, politely ignoring Amanda’s flushed cheeks. “Here’s the plan.” 

  
*

Todd came downstairs for dinner and was held captive outside the kitchen door by Amanda. She was stronger than he remembered. 

“Sis,” he said, surprised, “hey.” 

“You’re still a piece of shit,” Amanda opened on the offensive, “but there is a gorgeous soul made entirely of sunshine who _somehow_ thinks you’re the bees knees, and it isn’t fair of you to treat him like this.” 

“Amanda, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

“Bullshit. Get it together, Todd, or you really will end up exactly as alone as you think you are.” 

“I just want to talk to you-” 

“If I ever want to speak to you again, you’ll be the first to know. Right now this isn’t about me,” Amanda said firmly, “this is about _him_.” She pushed her brother through the kitchen door to find Dirk standing by the table beautifully set for two. A bushel of mistletoe hung above him and Todd swore he could hear Mariah Carey’s Christmas album playing in the background. 

“Dirk?” 

“Todd,” Dirk returned, “thank you for coming.” 

“Where is everyone? What’s going on?” 

Dirk took a deep breath. “We are being sufficiently meddled with,” he explained, “because thus far I have utterly failed to impress upon you the significance of my feelings toward you. It remains unclear if this is a result of a lack of interest on your part or lack of understanding on mine. Or both.” 

“What?” 

“I fancy you, Todd. I fancy myself to be a bit in love with you, actually, to be totally honest. I’d be quite interested to know where you stand on the matter.” Dirk tried smiling but it came out a bit wobbly. 

Todd looked at the beautiful table, the soft lights, and Dirk, his auburn hair shining and his bottom lip trying not to quiver. “I’m not good for you, Dirk,” Todd said quietly, “I’m not good enough for you. You deserve someone who’ll make you happy, and treat you right.” 

“That’s you, you silly man!” Dirk said with a damp smile. 

“You don’t get it,” Todd tried again, moving toward the table. “You deserve the best of everything and I am never going to be that.” 

Dirk reached out for Todd, unsure as ever how to react with his body and settled for gripping Todd’s shoulders. “You’re already everything I could ever want. You’re brave and clever and funny and kind and more than a bit handsome, and you’re _it_ for me.” 

In that moment, Todd realised he had a choice: he could let himself love Dirk or be a self-satisfied, miserable asshole. He knew he didn’t deserve someone as amazing as the holistic detective but a little nugget of selfishness wanted that chance at happiness. Maybe it was finally time to admit he’d done enough dwelling on his self-imposed punishment. 

“Dirk, I,” Todd stopped trying to find words and settled for kissing Dirk instead. With that one simple move the last vestiges of distance between them fell. Todd grabbed Dirk by the front of his flashing jumper to pull him closer, suddenly desperate to have as little possible space between them as possible. Dirk, beautiful, awkward Dirk, finally figured out that his long arms could reach around Todd to rest on the shorter man’s waist. From there it was only a brief journey to reach Todd’s ass, the discovery of which Dirk found to be quite enthralling. 

In all the months he’d been lusting after Todd, Dirk had never really envisioned what he’d do with the object of said lust when given the opportunity. Kissing was definitely an excellent start, and he rather hoped that clothes would become optional at some point, though he would be just as clueless then as he was now. Finding himself in intimidating situations was absolutely nothing new but this would have been a very helpful time to have a clue as to how to proceed. Just one clue. He wasn’t greedy. 

“Can I just ask,” Dirk pulled away, “do you know what happens next?” 

“Uh, yeah,” Todd replied with not very convincing confidence, his breath a little ragged. He still held onto Dirk’s jumper and wasn’t at all inclined to let go. 

“Excellent. Because I have no idea.” 

Todd smiled. “That’s not new.” 

“No, it isn’t, but this time I might really like to know.” 

“We’ll figure it out.” Todd smiled properly, looking up into Dirk’s glowing eyes. “We’ll definitely figure it out.” He took Dirk upstairs to their temporary bedroom and closed the door. 

Almost hesitantly Dirk pulled Todd closer to him, more than a little awed that such touching was permissible and apparently welcomed. Their mouths met cautiously at first but quickly warmed to the activity at hand. Todd pushed up the edge of Dirk’s sweater and shirt to get to bare skin and stroked Dirk’s back. Dirk quivered happily. He found himself rolling his hips toward Todd’s, holding the shorter man firmly by the butt to prevent unwanted distance. Todd groaned a little and Dirk pulled away from the kiss but couldn’t bring himself to move the rest of his body. 

“Did I do something wrong?” Dirk asked, searching Todd’s face for an answer. 

“No, god no,” Todd smiled, “making noise is a good thing. That kind of noise means you’re doing something right.” 

Dirk mulled this over for all of two seconds. “So if I can get you to make that noise a lot-” 

“Please do.” Todd practically begged, pressing his growing arousal into Dirk. 

“ _Right_.” Dirk pushed Todd to the bed and climbed on top of him. 

Todd succeeded in removing Dirk’s jumper and shirt and threw them in a sad flashing pile on the floor. Dirk was surprisingly muscled and, even more surprisingly, had a smattering of tattoos across his pecs and shoulders. Briefly he wondered how he’d missed them in the death maze until he remembered Dirk’s tight white singlet that had remained mysteriously unburned. 

“You can tell me about these later,” Todd said, running light fingers along the muscle ridges punctuated by ink. 

Dirk didn’t answer. He bent down to kiss Todd, bracing himself on his arms and rolling his groin into Todd once again. With a low moan Todd gripped Dirk’s hips tightly. His jeans were way too tight and he wondered if Dirk was ready for a lack of pants. 

As if to answer him Dirk stopped kissing to hastily remove Todd’s jumper and shirt and traced tender kisses down his chest and stomach. Todd gasped, his throbbing crotch rising to the occasion. Just as Dirk hooked his fingers into Todd’s waistband Todd gasped again. 

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to, I don’t want you to feel pressured, especially if you’ve never done this before.” Todd said sensibly. He tried to push back his raw desire. 

“I _think_ I’ve figured out how this is supposed to work,” Dirk said with a knowing smile. “You’re supposed to be naked, I’m sure of it.” 

Todd laughed, panting, as Dirk easily pulled his jeans and boxers off, leaving him entirely exposed and his desire unquestionably on display. Dirk gave a little moan and bit his lip. He resumed kissing down Todd’s stomach and eagerly took Todd’s erection into his mouth. Todd most definitely groaned and reached down to cradle Dirk’s head as the need for pleasure consumed him. 

Despite Dirk’s claims of ignorance, his intuition never let him down. Todd made appreciative groans and cried out as Dirk easily made him come. Dirk kept his mouth busy until the last, just about finishing himself in the process. As Todd lay back, his limbs turned to jelly, Dirk moved to lay beside him. “Was that alright?” 

“Jesus Christ yes,” Todd whispered, pulling Dirk in for a long kiss. 

“Really?” 

“Really.” Todd pulled Dirk’s pants away eagerly, “your turn.” 

“I don’t know how long I can last,” Dirk admitted. 

Todd kissed Dirk’s neck and reached down to assess the validity of Dirk’s claim. Sure enough it was the work of seconds before Dirk moaned and bucked against Todd, his orgasm resulting in ruined bedding. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dirk panted. 

“What for?” Todd smiled widely. He kissed Dirk again, running his hands down the taller man’s back to grab his perfect butt. He whispered into Dirk’s ear, “We can always try again. And again. And again.” 

Dirk groaned as Todd’s mouth brushed against his neck.


	4. Chapter 4

Amanda peeked through the kitchen door to find it empty. “They’re gone,” she told Farah. “That’s a good sign, right?”

“ _Finally_. No one can fight the magic of Mariah’s Christmas album and mistletoe. It’s guaranteed.” Farah entered the kitchen and poured champagne for herself and Amanda. 

“Please tell me you have enough supplies to outlast this snow,” Amanda sighed at the white vista through the kitchen window. “I’m starving.” 

“Of course,” Farah looked at her like she had two heads. “I am still the same paranoid mess I was six months ago. There’s enough food in this house for months.” She considered the Rowdies in the living room. “A couple of weeks, anyway. It’s mostly in the basement. I’m surprised you didn’t find it.” 

“Activities undertaken in the basement include being drunk, asleep, hungover, or,” Amanda paused awkwardly, “anyway.” She finished her champagne in one gulp. 

Vogle dashed through the kitchen door. “Got any more beer?” 

“In the basement cupboard-” 

“Cool!” Vogle bounced out before Farah could finish. She smiled and started getting plates of cold food out of the fridge. Martin arrived in time to amend the table setting with Amanda’s help. Once the plates had been rearranged Amanda leaned against a chair and looked up at the shrub of mistletoe. Mariah Carey’s dulcet tones washed over the kitchen and Farah took one look at them and decided to leave. 

“She’s right,” Amanda said simply. She reached out and pulled Martin to her with a firm grip on his belt. Her arms went around his waist and she whispered, “you can’t fight the magic of Mariah.” Her breath was warm against his ear and he sighed appreciatively. 

Amanda pressed her lips to his, slowly, carefully, enjoying the brush of Martin’s soft beard against her face. 

“Let’s eat!” Cross burst into the kitchen with a yell. 

Amanda pulled away from Martin with a smile and definitely enjoyed the low growl he made at the separation. 

  
*

After dinner Martin lounged in the window seat with a drink in his hands. Snow had finally stopped falling and if the weather held they’d be able to leave in a day or two. Though he didn’t feel the customary urge to be moving on it would be a relief to have true choice again, not to mention the ability to comfortably smoke a cigarette without having to traipse outside. 

The tree glittered merrily in the living room, tinsel and baubles and lights twinkling away. Martin decided that maybe they should do Christmas again. 

How could it have been just that morning that he and Amanda been arguing and he’d felt sick to his stomach about the whole mess? And then a few hours later they were in bed together. Thinking back to that particular point in the afternoon, the softness of Amanda’s skin against his, the shape of her breasts under his hands, the way she _felt_ and moaned when he was inside her – Martin was in awe. 

Amanda entered the living room and watched Martin at the window; he looked her way and smiled, gesturing for her to join him. She sat against him, resting her back against his torso and pulling his arms around her. With a sly grin she took the drink from his hand and helped herself. 

Martin tenderly kissed her hair. “I was just thinkin’ about you.” 

“Oh?” 

“About earlier today.” 

“Which earlier?” Amanda asked warily. 

“The good bit. Bits.” There were so many to choose from. 

“That’s alright then.” 

Martin took his drink back for a mouthful before returning it to Amanda. “About that thing you said-” 

“Again, which thing?” 

“Just before we, uh,” Martin trailed off with a smile. 

Amanda laughed a little. “I did _not_ think that you were the bashful type. The thing I said right before we had sex?” She searched her memory, sifting through the incredibly pleasurable parts for the conversation Martin was alluding to. “Something about a sexual health check?” 

“Something about, pregnancy not being an option.” 

“Oh, that.” Amanda shrugged. “When I was a teenager I had some health problems, an irregular pap test, next thing I knew the doctors said I was infertile. I hope you don’t want kids.” She tried to joke. 

“Not at all,” Martin said seriously, “do you?” 

“I was ambivalent, and then I guess the universe made the decision for me. I was barely eighteen when I found out.” She shrugged again. “It is what it is. On the plus side, no pregnancy scares for me! Which, as a somewhat sociable young lady, was a serious relief.” 

“Sociable?” 

Amanda laughed. “It’s what my friends and I used to say in college. It’s a nice way of describing a healthy sexual appetite.” She paused. “Does that bother you?” 

“That you’ve been with other men?” 

“Other _people_ ,” Amanda corrected, “and yes.” 

Martin didn’t flinch. “No. Why should it?” 

“I dunno,” Amanda said, sipping Martin’s drink again, “it bothers some people. Mostly guys, to be honest.” 

“It don’t bother me. You had a life before we met.” 

“And what kind of socialising have _you_ been up to?” Amanda asked playfully with just a hint of genuine curiosity. 

“Some,” it was Martin’s turn to shrug. “I never knew what somethin’ real could feel like til I met you.” 

“Til I threw up on your jeans in a cornfield,” Amanda reminded him. He laughed. 

“Exactly.” 

Amanda got up and rearranged herself to straddle Martin in the window seat, pressing herself against him in no uncertain terms. Her arms went around his neck as she kissed him deeply. 

“Merry Christmas,” she whispered against his ear. 

Martin pulled her in for another kiss. 

“We haven’t opened presents!” Farah exclaimed as she and the Rowdies burst into the living room. “It’s Christmas Day and we haven’t opened any presents!” 

“Oh my god,” Amanda laughed. She brought her hand up to rest on his bearded cheek, enjoying the gentle scratch against the palm of her hand. “Are we big on presents?” Amanda asked as she pulled away to sit in his arms again. 

“We’ve never really done Christmas before,” Martin admitted. “We can do this however we want.” 

“Great, coz the boys and I found something for you. Once the snow clears you’ll be able to see it.” Amanda nodded excitedly. “It’s a reinforced guard for the front of the van. With barbed wire.” 

“Sounds great. Here.” Martin gave her a small, heavy parcel he’d hidden behind his back. 

“What?” Amanda cradled the gift in both hands. She turned to look at him, her eyes wide. Short nails picked apart the tape and she pulled the paper away to reveal a set of knuckle-dusters small enough for her hands. Amanda squealed. “I love them! Oh my god, look,” she put them on and found that they fit perfectly. Amanda threw her arms around Martin’s neck, knocking him slightly off balance with her exuberance. She sat back just enough to be able to kiss him and held his bearded face in her hands. Martin rested his hands on her thighs, delighting in the holes of her jeans that exposed little hints of skin. Aware of the room full of people, Amanda eventually pulled away, biting her lip thoughtfully. “Thank you.” She left the knuckle-dusters on and curled up against Martin happily. 

Martin smiled, putting his arms around her. The pink smell filled his nose. 

Farah went to the tree and handed out gifts. She’d bought a bottle of whiskey for each of the Rowdy boys and gave them over with a smile. For Amanda there was a very different gift. “I thought you might be able to use this.” 

Amanda opened the box to find a compact handgun and ammunition. “How thoughtful!” She picked it up, liking the feel of it in her hand. 

“If you guys are going to be in town for a bit longer, I’ll take you to the shooting range and give you some lessons.” Farah hinted. 

Amanda smiled at her. “Paranoid as ever.” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“We’re doing _gifts_ , how exciting!” Dirk exclaimed, dragging Todd into the living room by the hand. Absolutely no one remarked upon the pair’s prolonged absence or their now nauseatingly happy demeanours. Dirk set Todd on the couch and went to the tree. “This is for you.” He gave Todd a poorly wrapped bundle. 

“Wow, Dirk,” Todd was mildly embarrassed but pleased all the same. He opened the parcel and found a shiny shaver kit. With a confused smile he held up the box. “Thanks, I think. I can’t help but think maybe you’re trying to tell me something?” 

Dirk waved off the thanks with a knowing smile. He gave gifts to Farah and Amanda, and yet more bottles of whiskey were given to the Rowdy Three. “Go on, open them!” 

Farah unwrapped hers to find a sleek lock picking kit. “This is so beautiful. Thank you Dirk.” 

Amanda’s gift was a new polaroid camera and stacks of film. It was bright pink. She unboxed it immediately, shoved in a film pack and snapped a polaroid of Dirk and Todd by the tree. “This is amazing.” She turned and got a shot of Martin in his hideous Christmas sweater, unsmiling, and laughed as it developed. He was so standoffishly handsome and capturing his best aloof look in a jumper with crochet reindeers on it was just too good. 

“That was partly Todd’s suggestion,” Dirk admitted. He sat next to Todd, resting an arm around the shorter man’s shoulders comfortably. 

Amanda looked at her brother. “Thanks.” 

“No problem.” Todd smiled tentatively. That was the first sentence Amanda had said to him in six months that didn’t involve swearing. 

It was a Christmas miracle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you're interested in the Cornfields in Iowa adventure, read on to the next chapter...
> 
> Important December 2017 update: Tumblr user [intricatecakes](http://untiltheendoftheline.co.vu/) has made [THE MOST AMAZING ART](http://untiltheendoftheline.co.vu/post/168741918752/merry-christmas-from-the-rowdy-3-inspired-by-this) go look y'all it will literally be the cutest thing you ever see <3


	5. Chapter 5

_Weeks after she joined the Rowdy Three but still a few months before Christmas..._

Why was there moonshine? More importantly, why did Amanda decide drinking loads of it was such a good idea? A few too many beers had definitely informed that poor decision but hey, she’d committed, and keeping up with the Rowdy Three was a lifestyle. 

They’d set up camp in the middle of some cornfields. There were no people, no houses, no lights or signs of civilisation. Amanda loved camping the best. When it was just her and the boys it was like they had their own private world that was safe and warm and fit the five of them perfectly. 

Of course, camping meant no plumbing. Amanda had only been with them a week when she rigged up a camp shower from the van, and a childhood full of outdoors adventures had her well prepared for outside bathroom activities. It was such an activity that led her away from the roaring bonfire, stumbling just a little. 

“Don’t you wander far,” Martin warned, watching her over the top of his glasses as she disappeared into the cornstalks. 

“Sometimes a girl just has to pee on her own, in the corn, alone,” Amanda called over her shoulder. 

This got a round of laughs from the Rowdy boys and Amanda giggled to herself as she meandered on. Once she felt far enough from the fire, she attended to business easily. She’d taken to wearing skirts and dresses to make the whole process easier and if it happened to show off her legs to a certain Rowdy then so be it. 

Thinking of Martin had Amanda sighing a bit sadly. She hadn’t quite figured out what she felt yet but it was definitely more than the sibling affection she bore the others. Was she just desperate for the attention of someone she admired? Did she crave that attention because he gave it so rarely? Or did it have more to do with how his shoulders moved when he swung a baseball bat and his tendency to growl? 

Amanda staggered through the stalks lost in thought, her fingers delicately plucking at leaves as she went. The midnight breeze picked up and she shivered. 

After almost half an hour, Martin got restless. “She should be back by now.” 

“Maybe she got lost?” Vogle suggested. He looked out over the acres and acres of dark cornfields. 

“Shit,” Gripps laughed, getting to his feet. “Get her scent. Let’s go pick her up.” 

Martin went to the van’s glove box and pulled out Amanda’s portrait, the one that he’d stolen from Todd’s apartment a few weeks ago. He stared at the picture, her soft smile and long curls over one shoulder, and breathed in her essence. With Amanda’s scent in his nose Martin ordered the boys to spread out out as they entered the crops. 

“Manda!” Vogle called cheerily into the whispering stalks. “Manda, where are you?” 

“Under the moon!” Came the uncomfortably distant reply. 

Martin glanced upward. The moon was indeed full and bright, but was generally ineffective as a close-distance directional aid. The shifting breeze brought her scent back to him and he changed directions, calling the Rowdies with a sharp whistle. 

“You wanna get any more particular?” Cross tried, laughing. 

“Uh, if you can’t see the moon,” Amanda slurred, “then I cannot help you with that. It’s right there! I’m right under it. _Right under_.” 

Martin could imagine her pointing emphatically upward, and laughed a little. “Fan out boys,” he called, “she’s not far.” 

It was Martin who found her. She’d almost crashed into him and instinctively clung to his vest to keep on her feet. 

“Hey!” She smiled. “What are you doing here?” 

“Lookin’ for you, drummer girl,” Martin replied before calling out, “got her boys!” He heard them head back towards the bonfire. 

Amanda scoffed. “Please. I’m not lost. I’m-” 

“Under the moon, I know,” Martin interrupted with a very small smile. “Let’s get back. It’s cold out.” 

On cue, Amanda shivered. Martin put his arm around her to warm her as much as to hold her up. It was times like these he was reminded of just how small she was, and how nicely she fit into his arms. 

“Hey,” Amanda said again, seriously this time. “It’s not fair.” 

“What’s that, Drummer?” 

Amanda smiled at the nickname he’d given her and looked up at him, one hand moving to rest on the nape of his neck. “You have the most amazing eyes.” 

There was an electrifying moment of silence between them. 

Martin’s heart raced. 

Amanda pushed him away to vomit violently, splashing his jeans as she fell to her knees. Martin quickly pulled her hair away from her face and held it out of puking range. He crouched beside her and waited for the heaving to subside. 

“All done?” Martin asked. This was not the first time he’d held her hair back for her. 

“I hope so,” Amanda mumbled, spitting the last of it out of her mouth. “Why was there moonshine?” 

Martin gently helped her to her feet. “If there’s somethin’ potent to drink, my boys’ll find it.” 

“You tell,” she hiccupped, “you tell them to keep it to themselves next time.” Amanda asserted. She leaned rather heavily against Martin, possibly more than was actually required, but she wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to touch him. Besides, he smelled so _good_. 

“They tried _this_ time,” Martin reminded her, “you ambushed Gripps and stole it.” 

Amanda laughed. “Yeah but, like, they should try harder.” 

“I’ll let ‘em know.” Martin promised and smiled. He didn’t like anyone’s chances of keeping anything away from Amanda if she decided she wanted it. 

Finally getting back to the fireside, Martin led Amanda to a mound of blankets the others had piled up for her. She fell into them with a happy sigh and started snoring almost immediately. Martin pulled another blanket up over her and sat nearby, keeping watch, barely resisting the urge to rub his neck where Amanda had touched him.


End file.
